Vicious and Romantic
by dracarys fulminata
Summary: Long ago, he sat on the throne of Wallachia. Beside him stood a vicious woman who was his greatest commander and the woman he loved the most. She was his most cherished possession that he would do anything to keep
1. The Great Red Dragon

This is a story that I have been toying around with for awhile now. I think its ready and for the most part, its been planned out in my head. This is fiction with some facts about Vlad the Impaler and others. Also, names were found by the amazing thing known as Google, other works, or my pets.

* * *

The lady of winter, the oncoming storm, the sword of the dragon, the lightning countess, and the wolf of the battlefield, the bloody terror, and the great red dragon were some of the names used to describe the woman who kneeled before him. In her hands, she offered the decapitated heads of the Turkish leaders to the Prince as she bowed her head in respect. A focused gaze remained on the floor, obediently waiting for the Prince to allow her to look up at him. For years, she was trained and molded into the perfect submission she displayed. She was his greatest soldier who had never lost on the battlefield and yet, despite being covered in dirt mixed with the blood of her enemies, she was easily the most beautiful woman in the room.

The Prince glanced at the gift she presented him for a few seconds before nodding, allowing her to stand up and giving him the chance to study her. There was no doubt in his mind that she was a beauty like no other. In her youth, she was often an object of mockery and ridicule. That bright red hair that stood out against the dark hair of everyone else, big blue eyes that seemed to be curious of everything, and the simple fact that she was rather small child made her such an easy target. Then, she grew up and everything changed but it was only recently that the Prince began to notice just how much she had transformed. Her hair was the deep color of blood and when it was worn down (which was so rare), it flowed down her shoulders in gentle waves, curling ever so slightly at the ends. Most times, those locks were tied into a high ponytail or a braid that touched her shoulder blades. Those blue eyes turned icy and pierced right through the souls of those who met their gaze. Full pouty lips taunted everyone into desiring a single touch of the red flesh. Flawless skin molded over a willowy lithe body made her into a thing of heavenly lust. The Prince shamelessly admired those curved and her bare arms that were hugged by the leather jerkin she wore. Unlike the typical woman who wore skirts and dresses, she wore a pair of leather pants that had been tailored to show off those slender legs of hers.

She was Anastasia Belacqua, the adopted daughter of Lord Commander Dragomir Belacqua, and one of the captains in Wallachian military. It was rumored that after the raid of the village of Čachtice, Dragomir stumbled upon a sleeping baby in a barn. Despite the loud screaming that occurred outside, the babe slept soundly and barely stirred when he pushed back that red hair. His wife, Lady Romana von Helgra, had passed months before he left for war and they had no children. Instead of slaughtering the child, he saw her as a gift from his dead wife and took her as his own. Since he was a highborn count as well as the Lord Commander, it was expected that the little girl would be a noblewoman but that was not the case. Yes, she had learned about music and history and was taught to read and write but that was not all. Dragomir had her educated in military tactics and she became a soldier, quickly rising through the ranks until she stood at her adopted father's side as a captain. She became as dangerous as the sword strapped to her waist and the white wolf at her side.

Of course, there were many who frowned at the thought a woman serving their great Prince. Most other women her age were married with children or they had joined the convent but not Anastasia. It wasn't as if she wasn't attractive or anything but she merely did not have any interest in marrying. At eighteen, Anastasia was still single and even though there were many suitors, she scorned them all. She turned down every proposal she was given. Even the Lord Commander scoffed at the other noblemen who offered their sons for his daughter. They were not worthy enough for her was always his typical retort whenever someone asked why he turned another suitor away. With all of that, she was often referred to as unattainable.

But that didn't stop Prince Vlad from admiring the beauty before him.

Anastasia nodded once before taking her spot next to the Lord Commander who stood to the left of the Prince, her prized wolf following close behind. Her father often encouraged her desire for battle and was incredibly pleased at the victories she brought. As his daughter, she was his heart's treasure but as a soldier, she was also his pride and joy. No other captain led their troops the way she did and in fact, she actually cared for her troops and treated them all equally and respectfully. In return, the troops remained loyal and obedient to her. They didn't care that she was a woman or the daughter of Lord Commander Belacqua. No, she was the Red Dragon who charged first into battle, swinging her sword and annihilating those in her path.

"It seems that I will be needing another room to accommodate all the gifts you bring me, Lady Anastasia," chuckled the deep voice of the Prince, "I am willing to wager that you are pleased with your daughter, Dragomir."

A low murmur filled the throne room as several let out quiet laughter. He was the Prince so whatever he thought was amusing was, by default, amusing to everyone else. Except the Lord Commander and his daughter. Unlike his daughter who was lovely and beautiful, Dragomir Belacqua was a rugged man with a strong frame and a stern face. His dark chestnut hair had been cut short and his beard was trimmed but he still held a disinterested look upon his handsome face. He had served the Prince for many years, as his father had served the previous monarch, and was one of his most trusted advisors as well as the Lord Commander.

"Why take that wager when it is obviously true?" Dragomir replied with a hint of playfulness in his strong voice, "Anastasia is gifted with a sword and skilled in battle. I am a proud father."

A hearty laugh was the Prince's response as the white wolf next to Anastasia released a low growl. There were a few glances sent towards the great beast, unsure as to why it was always present. As usual, there were those who found it greatly disrespectful that Anastasia Belacqua kept the wolf at her side all times, even in the presence of the Prince. Yet, no one said anything in fear of her sword and the wolf's sharp teeth. It was more than one occasion that the pointed blade rested against a pale throat, waiting to pierce the flesh those who insulted her. Most times, it was the wolf who would pounce upon the rude soul, giving a clear view of just how dangerous its jaws were. That and the Prince didn't seem to mind the beast. In fact, he often offered it pieces of meat from his own plate. He had favored the white beast as much as he favored its master.

Yet, long ago, there was a time when the Prince that she was not in his good graces and therefore, he had set out to kill Anastasia Belacqua. Not because she was a woman but because of the bloodline she carried. He could recall the very day that he almost pierced her little body with his own sword out of fear. He wanted her dead and to deny her any chance of becoming a woman. As he turned to look out the stained-glass window, he began to recall the very day that sealed Anastasia's fate.

 _From the shadows, Prince Vlad of House Drăculești watched as a little eight-year-old girl sat on the stone bench, reading a book. Her red hair was tied into two neat braids that rested delicately on her shoulders while those light blue eyes focused intently on the written words in her book. She wore a simple light-colored cotton dress and had abandoned her shoes somewhere in the field on the Belacqua land. Her adopted father was due back today and he wanted her death before he returned, that way the blame could land on robbers or those filthy Turks instead of him._

 _Gripping his sword, the Prince inched forward, silently making his way closer to the girl. He chose to complete this task himself out of fear of Dragomir's retaliation. The Lord Commander was loyal the Wallachian nation but she was his daughter. Adopted or not, the little girl had become his family and she was very dear to him. He had often called the little girl his "heart's treasure" and showered her with love and affection. He had even named her heir to all of his titles and lands, making her a little countess and the future of House Belacqua. The Lord Commander had also ensured that while he was away, his daughter was educated. At her current age, she was able to read and write as easily as a noble highborn. Often, the child was found, reading to the servants and other children who were not as fortunate as her. Thus, she was adored by the low born servants at the Belacqua manor._

 _If it was revealed who his daughter's true murderer was, the Prince would be unsure who the troops would follow. Their Prince or their Lord Commander? He was well aware of the fact that there were many that obeyed his law simply because Dragomir Belacqua enforced them. What if he turned his back and declared war? The Prince would not risk that._

 _Suddenly, the child looked up and focused in on the Prince's direction. Those piercing blue eyes narrowed as she focused on something. The book fell from her lap as his breath hitched. Did she see him and if so, how did she sense his presence? He didn't want her to scream and alert those in the house. He needed this to be quick and efficient, denying her the chance to make a single sound. She stood up and took a cautious step forward, tilting her head to the side as if she was debating on coming closer. If she did, it would be much easier for the Prince to swing his sword and roll her head to the ground._

" _Papa?" the girl asked in a confused voice as her nose wrinkled._

" _Hello, my little firebreather, my heart's treasure."_

 _Internally, the Prince screamed with rage. Dragomir had returned early and thus ending his chance to kill the little girl. Angrily, he watched as the Lord Commander scooped up the child, spinning around and holding her tiny body close to his own armor-clad one. Delightful laughs escaped as she told her father that she had missed him very much. In return, Dragomir said the same to her and asked what she had done while he was away, prompting the child to reveal that she had pushed the cat in the wash and found his secret library. A deep laughter escaped as he sat down and listened intently to his daughter's tale._

 _Deep down inside, the Prince didn't want to do this terrible thing. He didn't want to end her life but fear had forced him to hide in the shadows and wait for the opportune time to drive a sword through her chest. Maybe it was fate that Dragomir Belacqua had decided to arrive early but in the back of his mind, the Prince contemplated on whether or not this was the right course of action. The woman who greatly resembled the little girl and what she revealed was the reason why the Prince had gone on this path. Despite her chains, she taunted him from her jail and laughed at his horror when she revealed her darkest secret._

" _The power of the Bloody Lady of Csejte flows through her veins" the Prince whispered, trying to force himself to remember why he had come, "She would be my downfall if I do not kill her."_

" _The other children made fun of me," the little girl revealed to her father, still telling all that had happened, "They said I look like a Hungarian."_

 _Unfortunately for the child, it was true. Her features were not common in Wallachia which caused her to often be taunted on a daily basis. This just added to the Prince's list of reason why to end her life. Those rotten Hungarians had sided with the equally dreadful Ottoman Turks thus placing them, in his eyes, as enemies of Wallachia. He couldn't have a disgusting Hungarian in his midst._

" _What did you say back to those nasty little brats?" Dragomir asked, tugging on one of her little braids._

" _I may be Hungarian and I may have Hungarian blood in me but my heart is Wallachian and I obey only the Prince."_

 _With those words, the Prince stared in shock and disbelief at the little girl who looked up proudly at her adopted father. It was obvious that she had little affection for the nation that she was born in and turned her back on it. There was a deep pride when she said where her heart lay and a disgust when the Hungarians were mentioned. Her loyalty was strongly with Wallachia and the Prince knew from that moment on that if she was forced with killing him or the Turkish leader, she would point the sword away from him. It was from that moment that Anastasia Belacqua was spared and had become favored in the Prince's eyes. Little did he know, it would only be a few years before she presented him with the head of a Turkish general for the first time and killed another Turk at his command._

" _That's my heart's treasure," Dragomir smiled as he got up, "Now come, I have a gift for you. A hunting dog is not worthy enough to be your companion so I found you something that would match that wild rage of yours. But remember this: you will train it yourself, you'll feed it yourself, and if it dies, you will bury it yourself."_

That companion that Dragomir spoke of all those years ago had grown to become the same white wolf that sat next to Anastasia Belacqua now. As instructed, she had trained it in the ways of battle and because of the ever constant presence of the beast, she gained several wolf related nicknames.

Suddenly, a messenger came running towards the throne. The young boy of twelve bowed quickly to the Prince before turning to the man on the right of the Prince. He was Baron Darius of the House Stelian who was a served on the council of the Prince's. But it was a known fact that he sought to increase his family's standing by using his children. His eldest son, Constantin, was also a captain in the military who often attempted to court Anastasia on numerous occasion, only to face her wrath and her wolf's attack. He was not as successful as the daughter of the Lord Commander and often was jealous of how she led her troops to countless victories. Baron Darius also had a daughter, Lavinia, who often vied for the affections of the Prince. It was rather common to find her seeking out the great monarch, trying to make herself a permanent fixture in the great castle. Yet, she, too, had been unsuccessful. Like their father, both siblings wanted desperate to increase their standings and saw the Prince and the House of Belacqua as their ways to do so.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Baron Stelian, your son and his troops had been captured at Silistra by the Turks!"

"What!" roared the Baron as he stepped forward, "I must go to him. I must rescue my son."

"Baron, wait," the Lord Commander called before the shorter man stormed off, "This could very well be a trap to lure one of the council."

Darius stared at the Lord Commander as if he had been slapped on the face while Dragomir held his composure and gave an impassive glance. Everyone in the kingdom knew how much the Lord Commander detested the Baron and found him to be a rather stupid and moronic individual. In return, Lord Darius was envious of the Lord Commander. It was said that he coveted Lady Romana and was determined to have her hand in marriage but in the village of Helgra, it was allowed that the woman could choose her husband and instead, married Dragomir. He was not yet Lord Commander and Darius challenged him to a dual out of rage but was easily defeated. The Baron never forgot and as the years passed, he became a member of the council, hoping to one day watch the Lord Commander fall from grace. He also hoped that by his son marrying Anastasia Belacqua, Dragomir would finally accept the Baron as an equal but instead, she harbored a hatred of their family that matched her father's.

"I agree," said the Prince, standing up, as the Baron crumpled to his feet and stared at the marble ground, "We must have a plan before aimlessly running towards the city."

The Baron looked at both the Lord Commander and the Prince with a pitiful look, unwilling to admit that they both were right. It would be chaos and murder that would result if they marched towards the captured village immediately. Yet the Baron was blinded with the desire to save his son at once and he had forgotten that he no longer had any military standing. It was at that reminder that he glared at the Lord Commander. Easily, the Prince could see that the Baron was mentally cursing Dragomir, blaming him for his son's capture.

"Silistra is by the river, is it not?"

Everyone looked to the female captain, including the Prince, to see that she was calmly still standing there with her hand resting on her wolf's head. As a military captain, she disliked the idea of one of her fellow captains being captured even more than her dislike of the idiotic Constantin Stelian. It was evident that she feared that Constantin would betray the Prince and reveal secrets and military strategy, thus possibly contributing to the downfall of Wallachia.

"It is," the Prince answered, walked towards the woman, "Why do you ask, Lady Anastasia? I thought you weren't fond of Captain Stelian."

"He is a moron but I would not have any of our troops in the hands of those filthy Turks," Anastasia replied with a savage tone, "Allow me this task of reclaiming Silistra for you, my Prince. I will not fail. I will kill them all if that is what you wish."

In that instance, the Prince saw the fire of blood lust in her sapphire blue eyes and he knew that she, like times before, would not fail him. Like her father before her, she had glory and fame to his reign and never once backed in the face of battle. Dragomir had successfully bred his adopted daughter for battle and as a result, the Turks fled at the sight of the Great Red Dragon on the field. She spared none and she would do so again if that is what her Prince desire.

"As long as you honor me by allowing me to ride with you. I wish to see the Great Red Dragon at her peak."


	2. The Art of War

First off, I would like to thank everyone who favorited this story. Really was not expecting that but hey, thanks!

Also, I would like to formally admit that I totally got bored at work and wrote this instead of baby-sitting computers...at like three in the morning. That wasn't fun at all. Well, enjoy, and sometime in the future I'll update.

Oh, totally used some lines from 300: Rise of an Empire and tweeked them to fit this story. In all honestly, I kinda have a mental image of Anastasia wearing all the same clothes as Artemisia and acting the same way...

* * *

An irritated sigh filled with annoyance and disdain left as the dark blue eyes of Anastasia Belacqua narrowed at the sight of the Turkish flag flying over the village of Silistra. Her draconic rage flared deep within her chest as she took a deep breath to calm her entire demeanor. Yet, it did little to soothe the savage beast that was her temper. Earlier that day, the Wallachian troops had made it to their destination and had chosen to set up camp to prepare for the upcoming battle but their captain decided to go ahead to scout the surrounding area around the village. The ride was rather short due to a mere hill surrounded by a dark forest being the dividing factor between the Wallachian camp and the captured village but the sun had long set and the world was shrouded in complete darkness. Yet, Anastasia maneuvered her steed with practiced ease to a cliff that overlooked the entire valley. The forest gave her the ability to hide but she still had a clear view to study everything.

In a matter of a few short hours, she already had figured out how long each guard stood on watch, when they changed guards, and where the weakest point was. As predicted, it was the river that was unprotected but already, Anastasia had developed a plan to turn the tide to her advantage. Since the Prince confirmed the river's location in relation to Silistra, her mind had formed an idea that had been fine-tuned during the entire journey. She also realized that as the night passed, it was scared younger men that took to the watch. Often, when a small sound was made, they jumped up in fear which, of course, amused Anastasia to no end. Turning her head towards the east, she cupped her hand around her mouth and whistled, creating a bird-like call that flowed down the valley. A few seconds later, three responses came soon after which caused a slightly twisted smile to form on her lips. Everything was in place which pleased her greatly. Taking in another deep breath, Anastasia glanced at the full moon that broke through the dark sky before she tugged on the reins gently, signaling to her powerful bay war horse that it was time to return back to camp.

Charging through the darkness of the forest, the mare galloped with an unmatched speed that Anastasia found comforting. She relaxed at the feeling of the wind blowing through her blood colored hair as her horse picked up speed. Allowing one hand to let go of the reins, she placed it on its neck and admired the muscles pumping through her majestic body. Named after the queen of Halicarnassus who led the Persian navy into victory, Artemisia was one of the most powerful war horses in all of Wallachia. Bred strictly for the art of battle, the mare was notorious for being temperamental and allowed very few to approach her without a horrible fate following. It was only when Anastasia decided that she would claim the horse did its will bend. From then, the sight of the bay mare, the white wolf, and the red dragon charging into battle struck fear into enemy hearts.

Thirty minutes later, all the troops stood up and watched as the horse thundered into the camp, stopping to a halt near the center. Gracefully, Anastasia climbed down from the mammoth and handed the reins to a waiting soldier, ordering that her horse be ready for battle tomorrow morning. She ripped off her leather gloves as she walked towards her father who stood patiently next to the Prince. His eyes scanned her face for any emotion but were pleased to see a hint of amusement in their eyes.

"Am I right to assume that you already figured out the Turk's patterns?" Dragomir's strong voice asked as his daughter bowed to the great monarch.

"Of course and it was easy. They are predictable and I already figured out their habits," Anastasia replied before turning towards the Prince, "Victory will be assured, my lord."

"How can you be so sure?"

Behind the Prince, Baron Darius Stelian stood with the accompanying noblemen and frowned at the sight of the woman. He still was upset about his son's capture and his treatment during the four day march. Due to his own stupidity, the Baron was given an old dapple gray pony to ride and had the swords of Anastasia and Dragomir Belacqua pointed at him. Even the white beast, Larka, had positioned her jaws to easily rip out his throat which resulted in his public mockery amongst the troops. So, it was safe to say that he was rather testy and wanted results right away.

"Because unlike your son, I do not fail," Anastasia's sharp voice snapped as she grabbed an apple from a passing tray, "I bring victory and not defeat."

A few snickers were heard as their captain turned the apple in her hands, observing its juicy red flesh before pulling a silver dagger from her boot. Just as she was about to run the sharp blade against its surface, a howl echoed throughout the region. Its piercing notes and haunting melody caused Anastasia to instantly look up. Her eyes flashed with anxiety as she ran towards the edge of the camp, grabbing one of her swords from the side of her tent. Whispers ran amok through the troops as everyone turned to the east. In the distance, a snowy white figure was racing towards the camp. The captain stopped after a few feet when she realized that her pet was dragging something behind her.

"Larka has brought a toy for us to play with," Anastasia said as she realized what her wolf was carrying was a Turkish soldier.

* * *

With bound hands and feet, the Turkish spy was forced to kneel before the eerily calm and disinterested captain. He would have been a handsome young man if it wasn't for the blood dripping down his bruised and scared face. Glaring, he looked up at the woman with complete hatred and disgust but that didn't even seem to capture her attention. Eating a juicy red apple, a relaxed Anastasia sat on a large boulder with her wolf's furred head resting on her lap while the troops gathered to see what she would do. In her delicate hand, a silver knife sliced into the fruit, creating wedges that were eaten afterwards. Occasionally she offered some to her pet who would sniff the slice before taking it in her mouth. Along with the noblemen that joined, the Prince and the Lord Commander stood behind her and waited, curious to see what she would do. The sounds of the spy's wheezing and the occasional snarls of the wolf were the only things that broke the silence that had settled amongst the camp. In normal circumstances, it would have been Dragomir who decided the fate of the Turkish man but since it was his daughter who led the troops, the choice now belonged to Anastasia Belacqua.

"I hear that you have been rather stubborn," Anastasia said in a cool, daunting voice after she tossed the apple core towards one of the horses, "And that you wouldn't cooperate with us by telling my men if there are any more of you filth."

"And I hear you are a whore from the east," the spy shot back before looking around at the Wallachian army with disgust, "Your captain is Hungarian! You filthy Wallachians take your orders from a Hungarian woman. A whore! Spineless, just like your dirty Prince!"

After jumping down from the boulder and landing with such grace, Anastasia walked towards the prisoner and harshly pulled his hair, forcing him to look her in the face. Rage and fury blazed in her blue eyes as her jaw clenched. Her entire demeanor radiated an angry aura as the wolf let out a loud growl, raising its bushy tail in dominance. It had been years since she was ruthlessly taunted for Hungarian features and she had long accepted that it was something she could not change. She knew where her loyalties lay as did those who fought for her but to be regarded as a dirty Hungarian whore made her blood boil. Anastasia could never forget the mockery that was given to her so many times as a youth.

"Yes, I am Hungarian by birth and I have Hungarian blood running through my veins," Anastasia's voice whispered in a low cold tone as she allowed her dagger to slice through the flesh of the Turk's neck, "But my heart is Wallachian."

Turning their heads, the troops lowered their gazes as the body of the dead Turk fell to the ground with his head still gripped by their captain. Blood dripped down her bare arms but Anastasia took no notice as she brought the head level with her own, looking upon the fear that had been permanently plastered on his face. Her pouty red lips twisted into a cruel smile as she tossed the head into the stream. Meanwhile, the noblemen, including the Prince, all watched with shock at how easily and effortlessly Anastasia killed. Not once had she hesitated and executed the act without a second thought. Only the Lord Commander remained calm because he had seen his daughter do this before, especially when she was experiencing a fit of rage. With her eyes still flashing with that draconic rage, Anastasia looked towards her wolf and nodded once, signaling for her pet to come to her side.

"Are you not concerned?" the Prince asked as he watched the head float down the stream, "If there are others, sending the head down the stream might alert them. The element of surprise is no longer yours."

"I have no need for that," Anastasia calmly replied as a soldier handed her cloth to wipe the blood away from her arms, "I know their patterns and my plan is in place. Besides, that head will serve a message."

"And that message is?"

Instantly, a lust for blood and battle flashed through her dark blue eyes as Anastasia placed the blood-stained dagger back in her boot. She bit down on her lower lip in a way that could be considered seductive. Tossing her braid over her right shoulder, she glanced down at her wolf. Her dark blue eyes locking with Larka's golden ones. It was obvious that a silent message was passed between the two before Anastasia's gaze turned to the Prince. With the same cold whisper, she said, "The Red Dragon is coming."

* * *

"Ah, Lady Anastasia, please take the seat next to me," the Prince called as the young captain walked into his tent.

Curiously, she took the spot that was offered to her and looked at him, trying to figure out the reason for being summoned to his dinner table. After the disposing of the filthy Turk, Anastasia had decided to take a short bath in the seclusion of the stream and then stay within her tent while the rest of her troops feasted on dinner. She had planned to read a book before going to sleep but as soon as she got comfortable against Larka's warm body, her father appeared and informed his daughter that the Prince requested her presence for dinner. Anastasia initially hesitated but being bred as a soldier, she complied and followed her father to the monarch's great tent where a domineering table had been brought. Surrounding it, the noblemen sat and watched as she entered.

Toying with her fur cape that was draped over her slender shoulders, Anastasia watched as a pageboy poured red wine into the golden chalice in front of her. Noting that all the noblemen and her father had don on fine garments, she silently thanked whatever divine power for allowing her to take a bath before being summoned. It would have brought much embarrassment to Anastasia if she was forced to sit in the presence of the Prince in her dirty clothes, smelling like she had rolled around in the mud and dirty. Unlike her usual attire of all black, she had chosen to wear a loose, cream colored cotton shirt that had been tucked into leather pants. Men's clothing, as usual, but for some unknown reason Anastasia found them to be comfortable.

Sitting beside her, she could feel the Prince's dark gaze upon her as took a sip, studying her the same way she observed a battlefield. It was daunting. She also was well aware of the fact that everyone was wondering as to why she had been requested but her father had spent years training her to remain impassive in situations such as this and amazingly, she executed this skill marvelously. Anastasia's focus remained on the chalice as the Lord Commander took the seat next to his daughter. At least with her father present, none of the noblemen would dare berate her for acting outside the social norm for a woman.

"Now, I must asked, my lovely lady, what your plan is."

"My plan?" Anastasia repeated as she was pulled away from her thoughts.

"Yes, your plan," the Prince replied with a hint of a smile toying with his slender lips, "I'm rather curious to know how you intend on reclaiming Silistra."

Blinking rapidly, Anastasia began studying every detail of the Prince as she mentally debated on whether or not it was smart to reveal her plans. He sat like a statue and if she didn't know any better, she would have thought that he wasn't breathing. His voice was deep and filled with power and strength that caused her to clench her thighs together. His dark eyes were focused on her which was rather unsettling to her. In them, she could swear there was a mixture of lust and desire swirling around in the almost black pits. Despite it being loose, the cotton shirt did little to hide the strong muscles that molded his body and for some reason, Anastasia was intimidated. She didn't understand it because she had been surrounded by soldiers for years and yet, it was the Prince who caused this reaction from her. For some reason, she also felt the wanting need to touch his hair just to feel how soft it was.

Wrinkling her nose and clenching her fist, she mentally sighed as she tried to stray from those sensual thoughts she was experiencing. Never had this happen before and of course, it did not sit well with her. Anastasia had to remind herself that she was first and foremost a soldier and not some dewy-eyed star struck girl. For years, she had forced herself to ignore the hormonal wants that her gender experienced and she was determined to not be like any other girl in the kingdom who fancied the great monarch. Biting her lower lip, Anastasia allowed her eyes to again focus on the chalice as she replied, "I intend on using the river to my advantage, my Prince."

"That much is obvious but how do you intend on using it."

"To my advantage, of course."

The Prince's dark eyes flashed with amusement at her response while many other noblemen shook their heads, taking Anastasia's tone as a sign of disrespect. The Baron even glared at the woman but her father simply let out a low sigh, shaking his head. Along with being victorious on the battle field, his daughter was known for that stubborn sarcasm that often surprised people. She definitely had a bark that matched her bite which was not typical in the submissive women of court.

"You are definitely a rare gem in the kingdom," the Prince commented as he was served a sliced portion of a cooked stag, "I do not recall there being a woman such as yourself who mastered the art of war."

"Artemisia did."

"The woman you named your horse after?" a noblemen asked, recalling the name of her infamous war horse.

"Yes and it was fitting," Anastasia replied, "She was a Greek commander who led the Persians to victory."

"Just like you, Anastasia," the Prince commented, "You are born Hungarian but you command Wallachians."


End file.
